A Life Only On Pages
by godzillacowboy
Summary: After the defeat of Chester V and his evil plan to destroy all the foodimals, Flint tries to rejumpstart his life on SwallowFalls with Sam and the gang only to discover some interesting records his mother kept when she was alive of her childhood. Although his whole journey so far has taught him a lot, he finds that he can learn so much more from the past, with his mom to help him.
1. A Different Mindset

**_Note: Hey guyyysss, okay so, the 1st chapter is either always the longest or the shortest, but bare with me, I swear these chapters get a bit more reasonably sized (longer) XD. Anyways, ENJOY! _**

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To be entirely honest, he wasn't exactly sure how to feel. His hero had been nothing he had ever thought he was except a scientific genius. When Flint and the gang had gotten back to their little apartments in SanFran Jose to collect all their things and jumpstart their new lives in the jungles of Swallow Falls, Flint couldn't help but feel devastated. As Chester V stared proudly back at him from a scuffed and faded poster on his wall, an overwhelming sense of defeat had come over him. He couldn't really bare to look at the poster. His legs felt a little weak under him, so he sat on his dingy little couch cot and sighed. Sam was busy with the packing of her own apartment, and his dad was helping the others get their boxes onto the boat. This was the first time he was left to his own thoughts in days. He was breathless and shocked after finally realizing that everything he ever aspired to be was a lie. Flint knew that he hadn't lost everything though. If anything, he gained so many more things since before the FLDSMDFR, and he had so much to look forward to as well, but still, it was hard. Chester V's success and popularity was what always helped lift Flint's spirits since he was a kid. He never gave up, even if he had hidden bruises and scratches and shivered in his locker at school some days to avoid any confrontations from unfriendly parties. The photos and torn out scraps of articles from Liv Corp that Flint kept on his person at all times were his friends, and had supported him throughout his childhood, even when the going got tougher.

Running his fingers though his unruly mop of brown hair, he looked up at the poster and spoke, "I don't understand. You were the greatest scientist this world had ever seen, and yet, you were completely out of your mind. I can't even begin to express the confusion I feel. All my life, you were my hero and I considered you a friend, but now that I look at you, you're a stranger. You tried to kill me! I mean, all I ever wanted was for you to appreciate my work and share with me your thoughts on everything!"

Unconsciously, Flint waited for a reply that never came, and then he put his face in his hands. Truly, up until the last moment of Chester's existence, he believed that Chester would turn around and realize that he could be good again. Although it seems ridiculous given everything Chester had done, Flint would have forgiven him. _'Maybe he was just lost, like I was. Maybe he really had no one to look to except his work, which would completely explain his obsession! Maybe…Maybe…Maybe…'_ Flint thought, trying to conjure up excuses for Chester's actions. Flint just didn't understand why; if anything, he just wants know why Chester betrayed everyone and lied to him. He shook his head and stood up, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You ruined it! You ruined everything! We could have all been an awesome team if you just listened to me and gave up and truly apologized. For a really smart guy, you're pretty STUPID! I would've even given you the machine if you had just asked in the first place before all of this! If that got you to notice me I would have given it straight to you, because I believed in you!" Flint argued, pointing a finger at the poster before hurling a ball at it from the little garbage can by his feet. He grunted and balled his fists, trying to contain his new frustration. He'd rather have gone his whole life not knowing that his hero was a cheat and a scum bag, living blindly, believing his hero was truly everything that was great in this world.

Sam would've thought he was crazy if he said any of this to her. She would have gone into a rage, because Chester nearly destroyed all of Flint's friends, he nearly sentenced thousands of foodimals to their deaths before they where even created, and nearly killed him—no, Chester did kill him in a way. He wasn't sure in what way but he didn't want to delve into finding out; Flint felt a little less full then before this whole Liv Corp. "incident" and that's all he knows. He wouldn't tell anybody about this—he couldn't, but this would be the last time, he hoped, that he'd ever truly think about this mess. So with heavy hands, he took down the poster and crumpled it up. His expression was that of a wince and slight jolt, as if someone suddenly ran their nails down a chalkboard as he crumpled it up, and dropped it on the floor. The process was repeated for every poster in his room, and anything of Liv Corp or Chester. Flint guessed this was what needed to happen in order for Flint to truly move back to Swallow Falls. He won't be the same, and neither will Swallow Falls, but that's okay, he assumes. Flint decided to get his show on the road, and really start his life over again.

He begins to put random objects from around the house into empty boxes to ease himself into the process. Not really paying attention while he mindlessly put dishware and cutlery into boxes, one of the plastic cups he was packing up missed the box and bounced off, sending it tumbling to the floor and rolling to the other side of the room. Flint rolled his eyes and trudged over to swipe it up. It had been stopped in its tracks by an old, taped up box with faded writing on the side that was almost illegible. Flint narrowed his eyes to try and read it, and came out with the word "—anny". Curious because he had never seen this box lying around before, he dragged the box to the foot of his bed to pop it open and comfortably inspect its content. With his personal laser pen he was able to seer off the tape and flip open the box flaps. To Flint's surprise, sitting at the top was a cracked, framed photo of his mother in a yellow polo with a tiny smile. Flint made a double take of the side of the box and realized that the word spelt "Franny", his mother's name. Flint nodded slightly noting that the tiny groups of boxes in the corner were packed with his mother's belongings. He wasn't sure where his dad had kept this stuff in their tiny apartment, or why it wasn't in storage to begin with, but it didn't matter. This had sparked his interest and it was something to push away his earlier thoughts.

Much of the stuff that he sorted through were books and journals, faded and creased. Flint imagined his mother had had a journal with her everywhere she went, and when she was done with one, would immediately start carrying around another as if by habit. It was very assumable given that his mom was a children's book writer, and a journalist for the Swallow Falls paper. On the inside cover of each journal was a number and a small title for what it was used for. The two dark red ones were for all of her articles that she wrote for the paper, the blue one was a personal journal and there were six brown journals of different shades that contained small stories and cute poems. Aside from those found at the top, there was an old camera, and a thick wooden box at the bottom. Flint left the wooden box for last, and was reading a few passages from the red and brown journals.

He stuck the blue journal in his side pocket, not sure whether he wanted to read it or not, and would save the decision for later, then turned his attention to the mysterious wooden box. He wondered what was in it that needed a lock and a small tag on the side that read "What To Do". It was obviously not empty, and when he shook it it sounded like there were a few solids slamming the sides of the box. Flint, with his handy laser pen cut the lock away and opened the creaky box slowly. The box wasn't big at all, and only held three journals, along with a lot of loose papers that contained walls of messy text and notes. Flint tried to make sense of the notes, and they seemed to have citations near the paragraphs of texts but he couldn't figure out what books the citations were corresponding to. He moved on and inspected the three newly found journals. There was a green one, another blue one of a lighter color and an orange one. Just like the other journals, the inside covers had numbers and small titles. The only thing odd about the orange, and green journals were that the handwritings being very different from his mother's.

As he was sort of skimming the journals, not really comprehending much of it, a folded piece of paper slipped out of the orange one. Flint blinked at it, as it sat in his lap, and set aside everything else to read the slip of paper.

'_Franny,_

_ It really has been too many years hasn't it? I don't really even know why I'm writing to you. I could have just mailed you the damn journal and done away with all the memories, but I felt the overwhelming need to write to you. Although you might be disgusted with the fact that I still consider you a friend, don't worry, I promise I'm not going to suddenly try and become buddy buddy with any of you again. I only heard that you were starting to write a book about the "romance between two childhood friends of yours" and could only assume it concerned…him and I. If it isn't about us, well, not only is it embarrassing, but I would suggest you just burn the thing. It's garbage to me. I just thought perhaps you wanted my point of view in the case it was about us? I really have no objections to it, and only hope you keep the story as accurate as possible, for…his sake. _

_It was hard to let the thing go to be honest. Much of it is very personal but you've got to let things go sometime, right? I'm afraid this journal is the last piece of my old self. I'm moving onto a new age, a better age in fact, but I'm not worried or scared. I'm hoping I've left my past in good hands though. _

_ -C.V_

_P.S. Congratulations on the baby. I saw the news in the Swallow Falls paper.'_

Flint sat in a bit of awe and confusion. His mother was writing a book so packed with drama when he was born? Where was this book? He wanted to read it! He couldn't recall his mother ever publishing a book of this obvious magnitude. He simply had to know what on earth the letter was talking about. Who's C.V? Who's this mysterious lover of their's and why hadn't his mother ever published it? So many questions, but not enough time. In the hall way, he can hear the heavy footsteps of his father and the joyful laugh of Sam along with Steve yelling "Steve~!" as they headed towards the apartment to probably fetch Flint. Flint panicked a little as he threw everything back into the wooden box, closing it, and setting it hurriedly aside, as he began to clean up everything else. As the door opened to the apartment, Flint slid the box back to the corner, retaped and used his Shrink-o-meter to shrink the wooden box and slip it into his lab coat along with his mother's other blue journal. He would have to continue investigating at a later date; for now though, he'd have to pretend as if he never knew anything more about his mother than what his father had told him, as well as what he had witnessed as a young kid.


	2. Detective Franny Is On the Case

**Hey guys, sorry for a late update! Oh my gosh, its so hard to do this in journal form. *tears* Anyways, a few things to point out; the breaks in text with a (_) line are to note when Flint switches journals to read. Um, be careful of the dates, it jumps back and forth a bit, but don't worry, it's only by a couple of days or so and it's all relevant info-I swear XD**

Anyways, I would like to thank everybody for being patient with me! 3 Um, maybe I'll post a link if I'm allowed; just to show you what Chad and everybody looks like. I drew them out so /_\'''

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It was late that night. Flint was only able to study the journals for an hour or so at a time every so often in the past three weeks, leaving him with still a lot of gaps to fill, but he now knew the order in which to read the books. Although Sam had planned for them to live and work together at SwallowFalls as soon as possible, their dream, Sparkswood, had barely gone under construction a week ago. For now, Flint and his father lived in the remnants of their old house with some make shift walls to cover up any holes along with their old fireplace to keep them warm. All the help of the foodimals to get SwallowFalls more livable for the new residents had made Flint's load a lot easier to carry. The homes they planned to build were to be eco/food friendly. How he was going to do that was still all shapes and colors to him, but Flint had worried about that enough for this week, it was time to do some personal investigation of his own.

With his father fast asleep on the other side of a curtain, Flint was free to look at the notes under the dimmed light of the fireplace. He settled up against his couple of pillow, and snuggled up with the light blue journal in his hand, and the darker blue, green and orange journals in his lap. He had discovered a few days ago that his mother had actually made markers where the story continued from journal to journal. Flint could only guess it was the basic outline for how his mother's story was going to be written (one point of view of an event, then the next and then the author's input etc). He could hear the cawing of cock-a-tails as they nestled in for the story somewhere in the forest, and the quieting of the crackling fire as he cleared his throat and opened up the old, scuffed, blue journal to begin.

August 20th, 1977

Finally this year, I've been voted to become the editor of the school paper! I really can't wait to begin! I already have told my parents the wonderful news; I wonder how excited Tim, Chad and Evene will be! They had really been rooting for me all summer and this gives us an excuse to go rattle the pinheads for a little bit over some fizzes and pizza. It's still hot outside so maybe we can celebrate at Tim's house with the pool and grill, like we did for the 4th of July. That was pretty groovy if you ask me but it isn't summer anymore. I shouldn't be planning all of these things like we have all the time in the world. We're in the 12th grade now, and although I know it'll be the waviest year ever, it will still have a lot of hard work packed into it. I can't afford to lose sight of my future as a writer, but even still, with my head screwed on tight, I can't find what I want to base my writings about. I'm going to college next year and I need to find a focus! And for a while now, I've wanted to write a book of some sort, you know, just to practice, but then, I can't motivate myself to do it. None of the ideas that come to mind don't even seem worth putting on paper. Bagh, it gets my frustrated just writing about it.

In other news, the first few days of school have been okay. It was nice to see everyone again, and especially to be able to see Tim for little bit each day. Evene had found out on the first day of school that she had been placed as VP to the Science and Engineering Team. She was, of course, infuriated about it since she would have become President if not for a "special" transfer student from SanFranJose, who entered last minute. Lord, after that, it took the three of us to cheer Evene up. After school, Chad bought her shaved ice, and Tim tried to use his father's weird fishing metaphors to ease her a bit while I patted her back and supplied her with tissues. In other news though, Chad and Tim were picked to be prime players on the football team for their season. Although none of us were really surprised by it, it's still something to smile about! That's all I have for now, I'll catch up later on this week. Ta-Ta.

-Miss Franny

August 25th, 1977

I'm glad that by a fluke, Chad and I ended up in science class together. It would have been awesome if Evene got stuck with us to, but she's a period behind us. As for Tim, he isn't taking a science this year because his father made him take a summer course, and therefore doesn't need to take another science unless he wanted to (which he doesn't); he's taking Woodshop instead. Although it's nice to have a friend with you, Chad hates science so he kind of screws around all period which is a bit of a bummer for me because I want to get at least a B in this class, but I don't mind too much.

For a tid bit of drama, that "special transfer student" I mentioned in my last entry is also in our science class. He's kinda cute, but he seems so much like a stick-in-the-mud. He hardly talks to anyone, and if he does its only in a very monotonic/bored tone. Chad likes to pick on him by flicking tiny rolled up bits of paper at him. I've had to hit him with my notebook just to get him to stop, but he always goes back to doing it. I don't know what's his deal with the guy but whatever. I just hope he stops, I never liked when people screwed with other people.

_(Added Note: See entry #3 of Green Journal)_

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August 22nd, 1977

Goddamit, I hate this. Because my mom read a stupid article on delinquent kids, she got paranoid of what I do in my spare time, and persuaded my dad into throwing me into therapy. I'm totally fine. I don't have any damn issues, but I sure am angry right now. I don't want to do this and therapy. If any of the guys found out that I do this, I'd be made to look like a freak and a wakko. I can't have that especially when I'm so close to becoming quarter back of the football team. What kind of guy has a stupid journal? I'd be a joke if anyone found out.

Well, it's not like people don't already look at me like I'm a joke. Jesus, I probably wouldn't ever admit it out loud but I guess, here's safe right? I have to go on pretending like I'm some big, tough dude, who's got half a brain, and no mercy. I get good grades…and I hate to punk other kids…I'd say I'm a nice guy, but I can't be that guy; I'll be eaten alive like that. Last year the guys and me taped a kid into his locker because he wouldn't give his homework over to our team captain. He doesn't go here anymore apparently, and I don't think I've ever felt as bad as I do when I think about it. I never got in trouble for it either, because no one ever found out who truly did it, but I know. It haunts me, and so does the countless other times that I did what I was told just so I wasn't singled out as a traitor. I needed to fit in. I think about it, and I truly had no other choice. Who was I suppose to run to? To be honest, my father would rather hear about my detentions from fights I get into, then hearing that I was benched for the rest of the season because I couldn't "play well with the other team members". The team would gladly butt me out if I even tried to think of disagreeing with them. If you understand what I'm getting at, then you can understand that I do what I do to survive.

Because quarter back is still being decided for the season, I really want to impress the team…but, already, I'm being pushed to do something mildly terrible, and annoying. The most recent quarterback, who gets an opinion on who would be fit to become the next quarter back, hates this kid in my science class. I don't know what this guy did to get the quarterback to hate him so much, but he persuaded all the guys on our football team who have classes with this "geek" to punk him around in each class. This is obviously Grade A harassment, and it eats me up inside. The guy looks nice enough, I guess, and I don't wanna hurt him, so luckily, I've gotten away with just flicking paper at him. Maybe I can get away with that for the rest of the year; it's a hell of a stretch….but I'm still hoping.

I'm going to be made to write again soon, so, until next time, I guess.

-Chad H.

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Continuation of Entry: August 25th, 1977

…But, never mind Chad, let's talk about me. Haha. I've been anxious all week for something exciting to happen, because, I know for a fact there is somewhere to put it! Look, I had always know that there was a "secret" issue that is published with the school paper, but I had never taken that issue seriously because believing gossip is like believing everything your classmates said in the third grade about the world. Back to the topic at hand, as editor, I'm in charge of this "secret issue", and I'm thoroughly excited to do it. It's basically articles about the latest scandals, drama and rivalries between cliques and etc. It's all fun and games; no one takes it seriously...

For me, there's this wonderful sense of danger to it as well! If I get caught as the head of this little operation, the teachers will have my NECK, but no one has gotten caught before and I'm not about to, so I think I'll be a-ok.

Of course, we never use names or anything, it's always code words/names/places, but everyone kind of gets the lingo, so it brings in extra excitement for everyone. That, and more people by the school paper so they can get the "secret issue"; which leaves us with more money for the newspaper each year and a sweet, little income for the head staff (wink).

I'll stop writing for now, but I'll be patiently waiting for things to develop.

-Miss Franny

August 31st, 2014

Remember that "excitement and drama" I asked for? Well, I sure wish I didn't. Here's what happened, I was talking all class period with Chad today, because we had a substitute today because our science teacher had gotten food poisoning. Poor guy. Anyway, the conversation kept Chad from flicking paper at Chester for half the period (ugh, finally found out that kid's name!). We talked about all sorts of stuff, and to be honest, I was trying to grind my brain to motivate myself somehow. Usually, when we're all together as a group of four, we talk a lot and it usually inspires one of us to go do something different or new. It's mainly Evene who gets all these bubbles of inspiration and creates something great. I don't know why my brain is so darn stubborn about wanting to get up and start its engine.

Maybe I could write something about having a writer's block? Haha, that'd be a good one, but no. It doesn't seem too good of an idea. I went off topic-Sorry. Anyways, I was thinking about those things in class as well and of course, in my deepest turning of thought, something happens. Chester, the bully magnet that I noticed he is, was being passed notes from down the aisles of lab tables. The sender was actually a rather slender, tall blonde, with neat hair, combed to the left and kept frozen with hairspray. Chad had been staring between the two for the longest time out of the corner of his eye. I had nudged him and he jumped a little. I'll write out the dialog; make it like a soap opera for my own amusement. It's the only thing that will make me feel a little less disappointed, annoyed, and angered about the situation.

"What's going on?" I asked quietly, peering from behind Chad's thick arm.

"I-I dunno. Something weird." He replied, "But-uh, I don't care. Why would I care? I don't."

"Woah there, Captain Defensive, I never even asked that!" I laughed a bit forcibly.

"….Mmm…." He replied as he turned away from the scene slightly.

As he turned away, I had watched Chester open up another note he received. After what seemed like a quick read, he immediately slammed down the note. He seemed to be trembling. He turned slightly towards our table; we made eye contact. I remember blinking furiously and then automatically ducking my head back behind Chad's mass. I shook my head; I didn't want him to know that I had been nosey.

It all happened so fast. All I heard next was the scooting of a lab chair, and then the almost inaudible fast-paced steps of sneakers under the cloud of chattering from the rest of the classroom.

Chad peered up, "What the-?" SMACK.

"Oh my god, Chad!" I blurted out, and then-

"Why, you piece of shit!" BAM.

Then…

Silence.

Everyone in the classroom was absolutely still. I had involuntarily shut my eyes and covered my face with my hands as if to protect myself from the danger that wasn't even remotely related to me. When I opened my eyes and looked around, everyone was wide eyed, jaws dropped and frozen in shock. Chad was standing, his chair had fallen over from his sudden movements, and Chester was on the floor with a red welt on his left cheek. He curled in on himself like a dying worm, holding his face. The substitute had rushed over to separate, what he deemed was a fight, and then demanded an explanation.

"I have no idea what's going on. This guy just comes up and smacks me in the face!" Chad yammered, pointing accusingly at Chester.

Chester tried very weakly to sit up, "…That's not true. He started it first."

At this, both Chad and I were dumbfounded. Chad hadn't started any fight and yet here we were. No one had seen what even happened, so both their words weren't taken as the truth. Then just like that, they were both dragged to the principle's office. Chad had told me not to say anything, because he didn't want my editorial job to be in jeopardy before the year even really begun by putting my name on this mess. I was furious to be honest, but then I remembered that maybe Chester was trying to defend himself against Chad's bullying, but that didn't make any sense. I mean, you always use communication first, right? Either that, or Chester's plain stupid, which is obviously, isn't. _It had to do something with the notes Chester was getting, _I thought to myself.

So, with that in mind, I waited till the shocked, and flabbergasted student had left the room with the gossip between their teeth to make a very quick investigation of the scene. Most of the evidence (meaning notes) was stuffed into Chester's pocket before he left, but the last two note had fallen to the floor under his lab desk in all the commotion. I've taped them in as evidence, below:

_go over and cause a fight with chad hound at table h. do it or youll be tied to the basketball basket again after we pummel you _

_this is what you get faggot for disrespecting Howie yesterday _

This is the most disgusting thing I've ever read. It makes me angry to no end! I hadn't been able to talk to Chad all day after that. I tried calling his house but no one answered. It'll have to wait till tomorrow, but, I called Tim to tell him about it. He said he'd get to the bottom of this and he'll try to get to Chad before I did, if it was possible. This is not the "excitement" I wanted at all. Now I can only lay on my bed wondering what all those other horrible notes contained. I will fix this somehow. It's my duty now-

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Just then finishing that last bit of the journal entry, Flint fell asleep, book in hand and dreaming.


End file.
